


The stars are fire

by panickinskywalker



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Canonical Character Death, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Non-Canonical Character Death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-15
Updated: 2018-05-04
Packaged: 2018-07-15 06:49:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 21,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7212215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/panickinskywalker/pseuds/panickinskywalker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Doubt thou the stars are fire; Doubt that the sun doth move; Doubt truth to be a liar; But never doubt I love.<i></i></i><br/>Anakin Skywalker is dead, and Darth Vader stands in his place. Vader has blood on his hands that could never have stained Anakin’s. He cannot reconcile himself with the man he used to be. In order to bury the man he once was, Vader seeks out Obi-Wan Kenobi, and his old master brings him a salvation he never considered.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The genesis of Vader

**Author's Note:**

> Hi friend, thanks for stopping by.  
> I'm terrible with tagging, so if you happen to pick up on something here that I haven't tagged please let me know and I'll tag it as soon as I can! In the mean time, please enjoy this.

The heat of Mustafar burned his skin and reminded him he was alive, and the man who called himself Vader pulled himself to stand in the ash. He shut his eyes, and the darkness and the quiet noise of the planet soothed his racing heart, slowed his heaving breaths.

For a moment he was almost at peace. The sounds of battle had silenced, and his blood had stopped rushing in his ears, and his head was no longer spinning with emotion. He could tell himself he was calm, for once, that the emptiness he felt now was serenity.  

Vader opened his eyes again and his gaze fell to the corpse at his feet, and then turned towards the landing pad. He remembered two ships, and now only one remained.

The one the Jedi had come in. Obi-Wan had taken Padme’s ship. He’d taken Padme.

He hadn’t seen them coming, in that moment his thoughts had been only on his wife. The sound of her voice, begging him not to do what he’d already done, not to burn the man he was to embers, not to fall so he could save her.

In his mind Vader saw the pair of them—Obi-Wan and Yoda—framed by the light of the ship at their backs. So sure they would kill him.

There was that familiar rage, roiling in his blood so that when he knelt down to drag the body from the ash, the pain of his burned limbs didn’t stop him. The Jedi Grand Master had been an almost worthy adversary, but even he was no match for the strength Vader’s rage has given him.

A rage that made him want to burn Yoda, burn the Jedi who had come for him, who had taken his wife and child away from him. He had killed one of them, and he would kill the other if he had to.

The small amount of fear for Darth Sidious he held in the pit of his stomach only seemed to make his emotions whirl further out of control. He could taste it on his tongue when he looked up to see the glimmer in the sky of an approaching ship.

It’s that sight that made him feel the weight of the body in his hand and sobered him, allowed him to feel the pain of seared flesh for the first time. Vader began to push his aching, protesting body to climb the mountains of loose ash before him.

He made it to the landing pad in time for Sidious’s ship to touch down before him, hissing and winding down as the hatch opened, and his new Sith master made his way out flanked by two clone troopers.

To Vader, Darth Sidious was terror personified.

Maybe not at first glance, when he looked like nothing more than a wise old man who wanted the best for the Republic. Maybe not even now as he made his way towards Vader, terrible and cloaked in black. But Vader knew the things he had done. He knew the false faces he’d used to win the public’s favour, to pull himself to power. Now, Vader even knew that those faces had been used against him.

Vader threw the Grand Master’s body at the approaching Emperor’s feet and he squared his shoulders. He was sure the man in front of him must have heard those treacherous words he spoke to Padme. If he had heard, and if he could feel the fear that Vader had shoved away, he wasn’t making it obvious.

He stood there for the too long moment that Sidious didn’t say a word, and he was certainly a sight to behold.

Parts of his robes had burned away to reveal ash-blackened skin, soot stuck to his wounds and to the blood that flowed from them, and he held so tightly to his tension that his body ached. He was sure that tension was the only reason he was still standing.

Then, Sidious smiled an awful smile.

“Good, my apprentice. Good!” He gestured, and the troopers collected Yoda’s body from the ground, and Sidious brought a hand down painfully on his shoulder.

“He took Padmé.” Vader was barely containing his urgency, and Sidious gave his shoulder a harsh squeeze that was probably meant to be comforting. “I have to go after her.”

“My boy, I will need you by my side. Now that those corrupt Jedi are out of the way, there is much we need to do in order to restore peace—“

“I will go after her. Obi-Wan will not take her from me.” To Sidious, this sounded like a threat.

“ _Lord_ Vader,” He began, stressing the name so it stuck in Vader’s ears. “She is the one who brought this _Jedi_ to you. The Senator betrayed you.”

“No.”  Vader shook his head. “ No, the Jedi corrupted her, I can still save her. I _will_ save her.”

Sidious let out a small breath, and with such practiced patience, his hand slid so it sat between Vader’s shoulders and ushered him towards the ship. He let out a sigh that sounded just so, and was silent for exactly the right amount of time. “She is gone, Vader. Perished.”

“She was alive, I felt it.” Vader’s feet stopped, and he turned to face Sidious with a burning gaze. Such convictions in his words and his stance that he couldn’t be urged to go any further. He wouldn’t believe it. He couldn’t. Look at what he’d done to save her life; It had been only for Padme, it couldn’t all be for nothing.

“It seems…” The Emperor paused, and he took a small step towards the ship. Had Vader been thinking about it, he might have thought that Sidious was afraid of him. “In your anger, you killed her.”

Vader reached through the Force. It was jarring to find nothing there within his reach. No Obi-Wan—cut off from him now, no doubt. No Padme, who had always been there to settle his racing thoughts. He searched for her desperately, but there was no heartbeat, no breath in her lungs. He could not find her exquisite presence in the Force.

Sidious was right.

For a moment, he was not a Sith. Nor was he a Jedi. For this short, agonizing moment Vader was only a man, and his heart burned in his chest. It made a noise so loud he had to open his mouth and let it out, and he raised his hand and the Jedi’s abandoned ship lurched back with a groan. Its feet screamed as it slid backwards on the landing pad, and he heard the sudden silence of it falling, and the bubbling of the lava eating through it. Vader wished that had been him.

Now, he was sure, Anakin Skywalker was officially dead. This man standing before Sidious was Vader completely, finally, frighteningly powerful, and ready to serve a new master all the same.

 

 

             The flight to Polis Massa had been torturous. Several, shameful times, Obi-Wan had considered turning back, going back for Anakin. He wasn’t sure what he would have done when confronted by him. When he shut his eyes, Obi-Wan could still see the boy who was his apprentice, bowed and swearing allegiance to the man he was sworn to destroy.

 Obi-Wan couldn’t feel him in the Force anymore, and he was sure not knowing—sure that knowing Anakin didn’t want to be connected with him anymore—was worse than knowing whatever fate had befallen his old friend.

To steady his thoughts, he would wander back to the medical suite on the Naboo star skiff and find Padme lying there, tended to by a droid. Her pallid skin, her shallow breathing, the sight of her kept Obi-Wan rooted to the present moment and kept his mind on the mission, when it drifted to less pleasant thoughts. Less noble thoughts.

He’d tried to stay by her side since he’d pulled her limp body from the landing pad on Mustafar.  He had squeezed her hand and offered her comfort through the birth of her children. He stood where Anakin should have been standing, told her the things Anakin should have been telling her, and then she was gone, as if bringing her children to the world had taken the life out of her.

Obi-Wan had held them in his arms. They had barely weighed a thing, and still somehow they had kept him anchored there, those fragile things. Anakin and Padme’s twin son and daughter, Luke and Leia. He could still hear Padme’s failing breath whispering their names to him. She had used the last of her strength just to look at them.

His heart had broken for those children, and the thought they would never quite understand how loved they had been by parents they never got to meet.

Thoughts of the future made him feel ill.

Obi-Wan Kenobi was terrified. Anakin Skywalker was gone. Padme Amidala was gone. Their children, parentless. Now, Obi-Wan was the very last Jedi. Just like all other things he held dear, he was forced to watch the Order perish.

He could hear the pair of them fussing, just a room away, and he couldn’t bring himself to move from the quiet, dark room he’d sequestered himself into. The ship was en route to Alderaan, to Breha and Bail Organa, to deliver their new-born daughter.

Obi-Wan found himself willing the ship to stay in hyperspace forever. If he could freeze this moment, Obi-Wan thought, he might just have enough time to recover from this devastation.

There in the dark, where he’d found a moment of peace, Obi-Wan felt his hands begin to shake. He felt a sob choke its way free of his throat, and that’s when he realized his cheeks were already wet with tears.

He was the last of the Jedi. There was no code to tell him not to feel. It had never stopped him before, but he tried. Obi-Wan felt thirty-eight years of grief bubble to the surface and spill from him, and when those tears stopped a few minutes later, his chest still ached. He was sure that ache was coming from his soul itself.  Sure that nothing else in this wretched universe would bring him joy again.

He felt the ship jostle as they dropped out of hyperspace, and for a bittersweet moment he wanted to chide Anakin for not programming his protocol droid to be a better pilot. In hindsight, trusting C-3P0 to pilot on his own was probably not the wisest of decisions.

Obi-Wan cleaned himself up and shoved his emotions away with a practiced ease, and then he made his way into the cockpit, where he pulled a thick brown cloak around his shoulders. Suspended between glittering stars was a blue and green jewel of a planet. Leia’s new home.

Threepio faced Obi-Wan, and helpfully announced that they had arrived.

It was now that Obi-Wan could finally find it in him to look upon those children, now that they were sleeping peacefully, and that he was about to separate them. If he could manage not to wake them, they might never know they have a sibling hiding somewhere in the Galaxy.

Obi-Wan doubted that very much. These were the children of Anakin Skywalker, they would be strong with the Force, and a formidable threat to the Emperor.

Leia fussed when Obi-Wan lifted her from the cot, but with an effortless instinct he held her to his chest and rocked her, she could feel his steady heart beating through the layers of his singed robes and it lulled her back to sleep.

The weight of her in his arms made Obi-Wan’s heart ache.

He left Luke to sleep without looking back, as the ship docked and the hatch’s hydraulics hissed open. Bail was waiting for them, grave faced, on the landing pad and Obi-Wan quickly ushered him back inside. It wasn’t a long way, but Obi-Wan didn’t remember his feet being so heavy, or ever being so aware of the sleeping child in his arms.

Breha looked graceful as ever, bathed in the ochre light of dusk, and almost immediately Obi-Wan had dropped Leia in her arms. Then, Breha looked as though it had only just dawned on her that she had a daughter.

She and Obi-Wan shared a look that seemed to be a promise. That she would be given the name Organa and everything that came along with it. That Leia would be loved and nurtured and given the best life Bail and Breha could possibly give her.

No words had been spoken between them, but the three of them had understood this was not going to be a leisurely visit. This was business, setting things right, grieving, if there was any time.

“I wish you both the very best.” Obi-Wan took a step back, he gave them a nod and turned towards the door.

“What about the boy?” Bail asked, and his voice sounded raw in the slightest. Obi-Wan’s was not the only heart broken today.

“I will take the boy to his family on Tatooine,” He said, and paused. “And I will watch over him.”

“I’m sorry about Senator Amidala and Anakin.”

Obi-Wan didn’t turn to face them again, but Bail and Breha could see his head bow ever so slightly.

“I’m sorry, too.” Obi-Wan set off for the ship again, and Bail and Breha—Leia tucked snugly and sleeping in her arms—watched he and Leia’s brother disappear into the atmosphere.

 

 

             The Empire was already casting a frightening shadow over the galaxy, and there was nothing left for Vader to do but take his place at the head of it.

He still had his clone troops,—with the only notable disappearance clone trooper 7567 and a handful of others—he still had his fleet of star destroyers and each one of those had their own fleet of fighters. Lord Sidious still had his sway, and Vader still had his military mind and his cunning.

He found the role he had taken in this was not much different from his role during the Clone wars. The end of those wars was either a terrible defeat or a great victory, depending whose side you had taken. Sidious had seen them as a means to an end. Vader saw them as something he would rather forget. Forgetting wasn’t such a difficult task for someone who oversaw the running of an Empire.

However, the things he would rather forget had become innumerable very quickly. Anakin’s fears and nightmares had always boiled down to something as simple as death. Anakin had foolishly fought against death, and death won on far too many occasions.

Now, Vader’s dreams weren’t plagued by his fears. He had already faced the very worst of his fears, and somehow he kept on living. There was nothing left for Vader to fear, not even his own death. At times, he thought, it would have been welcome.

His dreams now were plagued with regrets, and betrayal, and failure. Last words screamed at him by a voice he remembered being gentle and rational. The corruption of the Jedi that had spread to his closest friend and the woman he loved. He dreamed about feeling them slip away from him, and about feeling his own heart stopping in his chest.

At least now Vader knew he had nothing left to fear.  The thought had hardened him, and now he was mistaken for something cold and calculating, something without a face or a voice. A galaxy-conquering machine.

Vader was made of fire and stone. He was born of it, just like Anakin Skywalker was born of it. It was fire that had come from the mouths of the dragons who lived inside Tatooine’s twin suns. It had pushed him through his slavery, through his training as a Jedi, and through the trial-by-combat that was the clone wars. For Vader, the heat of Tatooine’s twin suns were a quickly fading memory and the dead of space had left him cold.

Now, though, as his feet touched the planet of Naboo he began to remember the warmth the planet had brought him.

It had been just a week since he had learned of Padme’s death—since he had killed her—and already she was being put on display. They had dressed her in blues that reminded Vader of the sea and of silent and still nights on Naboo. Her hair around her face reminded him of watching her brush it on Coruscant. The city lights had twinkled through her curls and reminded him of a star-filled sky, and now it was adorned with silver blossoms that had the same affect.

He watched her pass, and it was only a fleeting moment before her face had disappeared. He had thought, if he tried, he could kiss the life back into her and watch her cheeks turn pink again, and it had taken all his willpower not to reach out and snatch her up from her coffin.

As powerful as he was, he had harmed her enough. To raise a single finger against that woman would have been a sin he could never have atoned for, and he had killed her. What hope did he have of atoning for that? Had he the power to bring her back to life, he would let her sleep.

Padme Amidala would be laid to rest in a tomb Vader thought would only be worthy of her if it was a little grander.

He stood there, terrible and cloaked in black, and bathed in shadow at the edge of the lake. The walkway her coffin travelled over now appeared to float on the water, and it was lit by flickering sunset-coloured flames.

 He couldn’t quite see her face through the crowds anymore, but in the spaces between them he could see the light dance over the curl of her hair, over the hands clasped on her round belly, and the japor snipped that rested on it.

The sight of her had thawed him so he felt the familiar burn of tears on his face. When she was finally out of his sight and he shut his eyes, he could still see her anguished expression and feel his grip on her throat.

He didn’t know how long he had waited there before he turned away, towards the dark and quiet streets where the procession had already been, but the crowds that had blocked his view had begun to disperse.

Vader marched through the night-bathed streets and towards the empty square where he’d landed, and within seconds his fighter screamed into the sky.

The star destroyer _Executor_ waited for him just far enough away so it wouldn’t be detected. No doubt the planet’s security had been bolstered for her funeral. Landing and docking his fighter was so familiar he could do it in his sleep.

He made his way, with dignified and purposeful steps through the hangar and to the cockpit of the ship, making no indication he’d just allowed himself the final moment of his humanity.

Heads stayed dutifully, and perhaps fearfully, down as he entered, and he made his way at a deliberate pace to the nose of the ship. There he took a lingering look at the planet below them. Up here, Naboo was painted in blues and greens and whites, frozen still among the stars.

Up here, Vader was cold again.

He sucked in a deep breath, and squared his shoulders and raised his head.

“Set course for Geonosis.” He said, and spun on his heel, and from somewhere behind him he heard one of his servicemen call back obediently,

“Yes, Lord Vader.”


	2. The good man who was his master

One year had crept by slowly, as if it had wanted to pass as little as Obi-Wan had wanted to live it. He had listened as the Empire crept quietly to power. Here it was every bit as inconsequential as the Republic that it pretended to be. Only those who had personally seen the Republic fall could tell the difference between who was in power now and who then. Still, the Empire would do nothing to contest the power the Hutts held, and life on Tatooine continued as woefully as it always had, but the name Vader was murmured like it was a curse, and every day there was news of some new and more terrible atrocity.

Obi-Wan felt the arms of the Empire inch ever closer to he and the boy to whom he had devoted what remained of his life. He would say he couldn’t count the number of times he’d thought about taking Luke and running, but he knew very well that particular number sat at 368, and tomorrow it would be 369.

Owen and Beru loved their nephew, he told himself, and it was true. They heard those whisperings about the rest of the galaxy the same as Obi-Wan did, he was sure. They knew just enough to know they would need to keep him close in order to keep him safe, but not enough to know quite how much danger that small boy was actually in, if anyone ever looked too closely at the outer rim or this lonely desert planet. Obi-Wan felt the pair of them were safe here. Vader wouldn’t think to look for him on the planet he disliked so passionately, or for the son who was supposed to have died before he was even born.

Living on Tatooine, for Obi-Wan, had driven him into an uncomfortable routine. Here the suns were too hot, and the nights were too cold. Obi-Wan slept too little, and ate too little, and drank too much. He woke when the light of twin suns spilled through his window and burned him awake, and he slept when his feet were too tired to carry him anymore.

As uncomfortable as it was, he clung to it, and he clung to Luke. He must keep himself alive to keep Luke alive. They gave him a purpose. His last purpose in life, he thought, his last noble endeavour.

This morning, instead of being woken by too-harsh sunlight, he was woken by the alarmed chirping of an ancient commlink, jostling around on the makeshift table by his bed. He didn’t even bother to open his eyes as he groped around for it, and then switched the link open.

“What’s the situation?” Obi-Wan spoke with a kind of long-suffering irritation, though he managed not to sound like he’d only just woken up, a feat he prided himself on. It was very rare that anyone contacted him, let alone on his commlink. This had been only the second time in recent memory. The situation really must be dire.

“Well,” The warbling, digital voice that came from the other end was so familiar; she brought just the hints of a fleeting smile to Obi-wan’s face. “I’d say it’s… very early morning there on sunny T—“ Obi-Wan shushed her quickly, and she continued. “Right. I just called to wish you a good morning.”

“No you didn’t.” Obi-Wan opened a single eye to find that his humble dwellings were only lit by the pale gold light of pre-sunrise. “It is far too early for the morning to be good.”

“Could have fooled me, all those times you woke me up before the crack of dawn.” Obi-Wan could practically hear her eyes rolling.  “Just thought I’d return the favour. What’s the situation on your end?”

 “The situation is…” Now, Obi-Wan finally sat up, and he almost cringed as his bare feet touched the floor. “Sand. It’s about as irritating as the last time we spoke.”

“And that’s everything?”

“That’s everything.” Obi-Wan padded over to the window, pushed aside the scrap cloth he used for curtains, and peered out over the shadowy dunes. “It’s inside, it’s outside, and I wouldn’t be surprised if I started dreaming about it.”

“Huh. You’re beginning to sound like Skyguy.”

The casual way she said his name made Obi-Wan feel almost like he was choking. “I’d say in about ten minutes, it’s going to be too hot to breathe. If you have a point, _Fulcrum_ , I suggest you get to it quickly.”

 “Obi-Wan, this technology is ancient. No one’s going to bother monitoring it.”

“I’m terribly sorry, I do not know of this _Obi-Wan_.”

He set the comm down right as an exasperated sign came from its speaker. Instead of biting back, he gathered up a small copper kettle and shook it so he could be sure there was some water left, then set it on the stove and prayed that boiling it wouldn’t evaporate what little he had found in there.

“Though,” He mused after a moment, “if anyone could get it working again…”

“ _Which_ I did, and I found you, _and_ I got it to you. I think you’re forgetting that I went into hiding before you did, _Ben_.” Obi-Wan could practically hear the expression she was pulling when she said that name. “I know what I’m doing.”

“Alright, alright.” The banter was so starkly comfortable, Obi-Wan couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle, and the sound of it made Ahsoka’s heart sing, if only for a moment. It sank again very quickly when she remembered why she had contacted him to begin with.

 “You know what day it is, right?” She asked, and even through distortion he could hear how much gentler her voice had grown.

Obi-Wan was quiet for a moment longer, trying to shift the sadness that had settled very suddenly in his chest. He let it come to the forefront of his mind; today was the twin’s birthday, and one year since his former apprentice’s death. “I’ve been trying very hard not to think about it.”

“I saw Leia today.” Clearly she was as determined to talk about it as Obi-Wan was determined to forget it. “She’s big, and feisty. I don’t think her parents quite knew what they were in for.” She paused. “She’s definitely Anakin’s daughter.”

The thought of it brought a sombre smile to Obi-Wan’s face, and he seemed just a little more willing to speak. “I see Luke playing with model aircraft far too often for my liking. Owen and Beru are trying very hard to raise him as a farmer, but I think he might grow up to be a pilot, if he’s as wilful as either of his parents.”

The conversation had grown bittersweet very quickly, though, Obi-Wan supposed the day was destined for pain, and so he shouldered it quietly. Silently, in fact. Dead air fell between them, and neither could bring themselves to voice what they were really thinking, though they were each quite sure the other was thinking _I miss them_ , just the same.

Obi-Wan might have thought the call had gone cold, but then his kettle let out a shrill whistle, and there was a barely heard complaint from the commlink.

“I’m sure you’re very busy, Ahsoka, I won’t keep you.” He said, with practiced cheer, and then opened his mouth to say something that would end the call. Ahsoka cut him off.

“Actually, I did have a point.” She waited for Obi-Wan to ask, or to say something sharp, but he simply took his kettle from the stove and steeped his tea, “We could use your help, the help of a _real_ general.”

“You are a _real_ general,” He replied without missing a beat.

“I know, but…”Ahsoka was unsure of herself. Obi-Wan felt ill whenever uncertainty laced her words, it made him fearful, but she went on just the same. “This fight is huge. It’s daunting, and we’re so small. Honestly we can use all the help we can get.”

More silence. Obi-Wan poured and stirred his breakfast absentmindedly. Rays of light were beginning to stream in through his window, and he moved himself into a sunless corner to drink it. What he didn’t want Ahsoka to know was that he was considering it. If she knew he was thinking about it, she wouldn’t relent until he joined their rebellion. His bones ached and his mind was tired, and as much as he had convinced himself now his duty was to Luke, this was _his_ fight, even if he would have to be dragged into it kicking and screaming.

“We both know I must stay here and watch over the boy.” He spoke after a long moment, and his voice was quiet and full of remorse “I’m sorry.”

“I understand.” Try as she might, there was no hope of Ahsoka keeping the disappointment from her reply. All she knew about the art of subtlety, she had certainly picked up from Anakin. “You take care, Master Kenobi.”

“May the force be with you,” He murmured back, like a kneejerk reaction, and then, too soon, the call went dead. Obi-Wan gathered the comm from his table, switched the link off, and then tossed it over onto his bed. He was certain, now that she was gone, he wouldn’t hear her voice again for a long time.

 

                Everything on Tatooine reminded him of Anakin.

Some things were harder to ignore than others, like the Storm troopers he had to skirt around and mind-trick whenever he needed to visit somewhere with a denser population that the Dune Sea. He had to wonder if he’d known any of them personally, but if he had he was sure there was nothing of the people he knew left in them, nothing but the blind, programmed loyalty he’d once admired them for.

He saw Anakin the small children that seemed to actively try to trip him up when he walked through Mos Eisley, and shrieked in delight if he so much as stumbled as they sprinted past his legs, and who also seemed to be the only joy in the place. He heard him in the voices of customers, bartering in Huttese in the marketplaces. Obi-Wan saw him in the eyes of wilful slaves, and in the hum of the Force he sometimes felt from them. Sometimes he heard his voice, when he was sheltered inside during a sandstorm. Sometimes he thought he saw Anakin himself in the crowds, and when Obi-Wan slept at night, he dreamed of him.

Not least of all these things was Luke himself. Obi-Wan imagined it would be much harder to keep the boy safe the older he grew. For now he stuck by Beru’s side. She’d carry him around on her hip or leave him to his devices in the shade as she worked, and he was just as sweet and mild-mannered as Obi-Wan had very briefly known Anakin to be. Luke would grow out of it soon, he was sure, if he was anything like his father.

 

                Despite leaving just after the suns rose, they had already set by the time he’d made it back to the Lars homestead. Jovial voices filtered from somewhere below as he approached, and they were cut off by his gentle knocking on the door. For a moment there was silence, then Beru was standing in the doorway, giving Obi-Wan a tight-lipped smile. A moment later, Owen was standing behind her and looking as unwelcoming as he could manage.

Obi-Wan gave them both a smile so convincing it could have been genuine. He wished them a light-toned “Good evening,” and then peered past the couple and into the dusky entrance way.

“Can we help you?” Owen asked, in a tone that had Obi-Wan quite convinced he wasn’t happy at all, and had his attention quickly back on the pair in the doorway. He had been hoping he’d stayed away long enough so Owen’s demeanour might have lost its edge, but he could easily understand why it hadn’t.

“Well, I believe today is a rather special occasion, isn’t it?”

“Yes, and if you don’t mind, we were celebrating in peace.”

“I didn’t come to disturb you,” He said, and Owen had opened his mouth to protest, but Obi-Wan quickly continued. “I’ve simply brought a gift for Luke.”

From tucked securely in his robe, he produced a modestly wrapped parcel, and when neither of them took it, he peeled back the plain packaging to show its contents. Inside they’d find a model Delta-7B Aethersprite-class light interceptor, well loved. It was dented and scratched, and worn so that hardly any of its original paint remained, just a few flakes of yellow that would surely be gone soon enough in the hands of a toddler.

Obi-Wan closed it up again, and when he offered it a second time, Owen took it and murmured begrudging thanks.

“You’re quite welcome.” Obi-Wan answered, with the utmost of sincerity. He gave them a nod, and Owen turned away from him quite quickly, and Obi-Wan supposed that would be the end of it so he turned to leave as well. He could feel the uncertainty brewing behind him.

“Would you like to see him?” The question had come from Beru, and stopped Obi-Wan in his tracks. He hadn’t been expecting it, and the saccharine smile dropped from his face, and after a heavy moment he turned to face them with a much more heartfelt expression on his face.

“I would like that very much.” He said, and Beru ushered him inside and out of the night. He followed her downstairs, through the homestead and to a dining room lit with honey-coloured lights. Beru didn’t make note of the fact her partner had disappeared, and Obi-Wan didn’t notice it.

His attention was on the small boy at the end of the room, who was looking back at him curiously, unidentifiable foodstuffs smeared on his cheek.

Obi-Wan hadn’t seen Luke so close since the night he’d left him here. The sight of him—One year older, his blue eyes and his blonde hair, and the smile that dimpled his cheeks when he’d seen his aunt—had stopped Obi-Wan in the entranceway. Beru passed him and went straight to Luke, she cooed as she wiped his face clean, and then looked back to Obi-Wan. Her expression seemed to be encouraging him.

He came to stand by the chair Luke was strapped into quite securely, his arms folded sagely into the sleeves of his robes, and he gave the boy a warm smile. Luke looked up at him, wary and curious, and there was a silent moment between them.

“May I?” He looked up at Beru again, and she gave him a smile far more sincere than the one she had worn at the door. Very carefully, as if he might break if handled too harshly, Obi-Wan scooped Luke out of his chair and into his arms.

“Look at you.” Obi-Wan murmured, very quietly. The weight of the child in his arms was warm and familiar. Within him, Obi-Wan could feel the undeniable thrum of the Force, and he wondered if Luke could sense it in him as well. He wondered if Leia would feel the same in his arms.

The thought of Anakin Skywalker’s Force sensitive twins both terrified and delighted him. The pair of them together, properly trained, would be unstoppable. They would have their mother’s conviction and their father’s raw potential. Together they could rally armies and dismantle governments and rebuild civilizations. He saw them take down the Empire. He saw them save their father. He was sure nothing so profound would happen in his lifetime.

Luke reached up and took two handfuls of Obi-Wan’s beard with a mighty grip, as if to pull his attention back to the present, and Obi-Wan let out a laugh so hearty it almost startled him. It felt foreign coming from his chest. He glanced up at Beru with Luke’s hands tugging his head lower with a surprising force, he heard that the three of them were laughing together, and Obi-Wan couldn’t remember the last time he had felt so light.

“Happy birthday, little Skywalker.” Obi-Wan’s attention was back on the child in his arms, and on carefully extracting Luke’s hands from his beard, who seemed to think it was some sort of hilarious game. Eventually he was free, and Luke was safely back in his aunt’s hold, and Obi-Wan had bid them farewell and left before they could see how sad he was to go.

 

                A familiar kind of weariness had settled over Obi-Wan as he reached his dwelling, the cold of desert nights had begun to set in, and he shivered beneath his robes as he finally found himself inside. He hung up his cloak, and set aside the supplies he’d bought, and it took him more than a short moment to notice the commlink on his bed was chirping again.

He snatched it up quickly and switched the channel open, but all that greeted him was static.

“Fulcrum?” He was still, listening very carefully, a strange feeling of danger in the Force made his hair stand on end. It was something more urgent than the planet’s usual air of peril. “If you’ve called to wish me goodnight, I shall hang up.”

He could hear something now, the familiar distortion of Ahsoka’s voice cutting through the static, just for a moment before it was overcome again and the line went silent. He switched the link of very quickly, and nausea swept over him, though he had no time to consider the worst case scenarios flooding his mind before the door to his hut burst open.

He was confronted by the familiar frenzied chatter of clone troopers, and he had reached instinctively to his hip only to find he no longer carried his lightsaber there.

“Well,” He said, and he straightened up and offered his hands in surrender. He almost finished speaking those words so he could defend himself properly, but the troopers were wise to his ways, and very suddenly Obi-Wan found himself unconscious. That answered his questions about knowing them personally.

 

                Vader’s star destroyer loomed in the skies of Geonosis.

He had found spreading the Empire’s control throughout the galaxy to be far more taxing than he had ever anticipated. Control had never been the point. Taking jurisdiction on such a massive scale had been a stipulation on a contract he had never wanted to sign, and still he found himself here, the face of the galaxy’s occupation.

There was a quiet knocking on the door that belonged to a meditation room where Vader had been hoping to find a moment of peace. Apparently, he thought, there would be no rest for the wicked, and these days he knew himself as something truly wicked.

His door slid open to reveal one of his many servicemen, uniformed and standing to attention. Vader looked at the woman expectantly for a moment before he spoke.

“Speak.” His patience, as short as it was before, had grown even shorter. “And do not come to me bearing insignificant news. I’m sure you know there will be consequences.”

 “Yes, sir.” The Uniformed woman squared her shoulders and looked up to meet Vader’s eye boldly.

“Then,” he continued, a collected calmness about him that was far more terrifying than his rage had ever been, if only for the fact that every living soul knew Vader’s calm would be perpetually temporary. “What have you brought me?”

“Obi-Wan Kenobi has been captured, sir.”

Vader’s expression never changed, though the name _Obi-Wan Kenobi_ had hit him like a bolt of lightning. Of all his power and all his responsibilities, he was sure Kenobi’s face would be sallow and wrinkled by the time he saw it again. Vader felt a passion he hadn’t felt in a long time, it bloomed in the pit of his stomach and brought a wild colour to his pale eyes. She watched as his jaw clenched, and he seemed to be barely restraining himself, the thrill coursing his body like an electric shock.

“Bring him to me.”


	3. The lies we tell ourselves, and how they unravel

_Obi-Wan Kenobi has been captured by the Empire_ , the whispers spread throughout the galaxy, from rebel cell to rebel cell, passed on crumpled paper in scribbled codes, chirped in binary, flashed in lights to ships passing each other in the hush of space. However the news arrived, no one could quite believe it. Obi-Wan Kenobi had died alongside Anakin Skywalker and the rest of the Jedi order, It had been more than a year since anyone had spoken those names in the present tense, and yet there were too many whispers from too many sources for this news to be ignored. If he was captured, then he was alive, and that thought alone was enough to send a new hope through the galaxy like a shockwave.

By the time the news reached Ahsoka she had already known, but the confirmation chilled her just the same. It had bounced from cell to cell, the news lighting up each system with anxious activity as it passed through, and it finally came back to her two days after the solitary signal had been jammed. This news was not hope for her; it was reassurance that she’d made a terrible mistake. She had spent those two days huddling for warmth inside a dead ship, nestled inside a debris field left over from the clone wars, her fingers frantic on the console every time it blinked back in to life.  Other times, all she could do was sit and wait to hear Obi-Wan’s voice again.

From the viewport she could see the ruined parts of ships that she recognized, and she could remember being aboard them. She could see the carcasses of battle droids, suspended in the vacuum, their joints frozen up in offensive positions after so long in space, their blasters locked in their hands and pointed at enemies that had long since gone from the battlefield. More often than she would have liked she had seen blue-marked armour drift past, slowly enough so she could discern whether the markings were familiar to her or not, and whatever the answer was, it left her with a hollow ache in her chest. Occasionally she caught glimpses of the lonely planet this junk meandered around. It felt like sleeping in a graveyard, not that a great deal of her time was dedicated to sleeping lately.

She had been grateful that the warmth of her breath against the ice of space had fogged the glass so she could see nothing but shapes blocking the light from the planet and its sun, but it had cleared every time she brought the ship to life, to cycle through the ship’s life support systems and to chase the signal of Obi-Wan’s commlink. She knew who had him, and what that meant, and the thought of it made her impatient and so frightened, at times she thought it might be more effective to take her ship and chart unknown space in search for Vader and Obi-Wan. She had to fight the instinct to move every time the cockpit was flooded with light again, and she could feel the familiar rumble of engines behind her. More rational parts of her knew if she could just get a hold on Obi-Wan’s signal, she could track him. Less rational parts knew she’d follow him from one end of the galaxy to the other in order to save him.

 

                Vader wanted Obi-Wan to suffer in ways no torture could inflict, he wanted to search through his mind and see the kind of pain a year in hiding had caused him. He wanted a reunion, before the interrogation began. Upon his boarding the Executor, the prisoner had been cuffed rather indelicately, and shown to his accommodations. The cell was lot humbler than his dwelling on Tatooine, he thought, but leagues cleaner. What rooms, and by whom, he would be shown next caused most of his worry now.

Vader wouldn’t pretend he didn’t feel the thrill of some kind of enjoyment seeing his former master. Especially seeing the man on his knees, his wrists bound behind his back and his head bowed. The sight before him, to Vader, looked like a victory, like a solution to the dreams that had plagued him since Mustafar. Obi-Wan hadn’t moved since Vader had entered the room. He acted as though he didn’t realize the danger he was in, his shoulders relaxed and his breathing steady.

They’d call him a fallen Jedi, but Vader was more than that. He was more than the Emperor’s attack dog, more than a consequence to defying the Empire. Lord Vader was an act of nature, a wellspring of the Force itself and its most accomplished conduit. He was the shadow of the Empire. He’d only become more powerful since purging this galaxy of the scourge of the Jedi. He would soon destroy what few remained, and free himself from whatever hold they had over him.

Vader drank in the sight of him imprisoned with overwhelming satisfaction. After a moment he stepped out of the path of the door, and the silence was filled with the _hiss_ of it closing and the sound of his footsteps, which stopped uncomfortably close to where Obi-Wan was bound.

“I know you’re awake, Obi-Wan.” Vader spoke in a soft, sing-song-y tone, and he watched the man’s shoulders stiffened, but still he didn’t look up. Obi-Wan had thought, on many occasions, that hearing Anakin’s voice would bring him some sort of comfort. The voice that came from his captor certainly sounded a lot like Anakin Skywalker, but the mouth it belonged to was Vader. He could hear hints of darkness singe the edges of the Sith’s words.

And the Sith’s patience was not limitless. After another moment without response, Vader stooped down on one knee in front of him, prosthetic fingers found Obi-Wan’s chin and tugged it harshly forward, and for the first time he looked up to meet Vader’s gaze.

Obi-Wan found his breath caught in his throat. The yellow of his captor’s eyes burned like the familiar harsh sunlight of Tatooine, but it drew his gaze like a moth to a flame. For a rare second he was surprised, and then Vader could read nothing from him but disdain. He thought, briefly, that Obi-Wan was putting up such hatred like a wall, that behind it he felt other things.

Vader found he couldn’t quite look away either. Obi-Wan looked tired, just as he had remembered. On him it was a familiar look, but Vader found that he’d forgotten just how weariness could wear on a person’s face. Obi-Wan’s skin was darker than he remembered, and there were more lines, and while there were times when Vader was his apprentice that he could see the spark for life of the padawan he had met when he was nine years old, now Obi-Wan wore all thirty years that had passed since. Vader’s face softened as he studied the man, and when his gaze dropped enough to hide his flame-coloured irises, the familiarity of the sight before him made Obi-Wan’s head swim.

“You were expecting something different.” Vader stood up, and took a step back, and this time Obi-Wan’s eyes followed him.

It was true. In his dreams, Obi-Wan had seen something that was more machine than man; he had been pulled, broken bodied, from the fires of Mustafar and rebuilt, dressed in armour that could have been forged from the blackness of the dark side itself. Most importantly, in his dreams he never saw Vader’s eyes. Standing in front of him now, just 24 standard years old, dressed in black robes reminiscent of the ones he had always worn. If it wasn’t for his wretched gaze, this could have been the boy Obi-Wan had trained.

“I was expecting you might have grown taller.” Obi-Wan fired back as plainly as he always had, and he couldn’t quite raise his head high enough so he was looking down at Vader from where he knelt, but he raised his head all the same, a gesture of resistance.

Vader looked away, he seemed exasperated by Obi-Wan already, but his mouth twitched into a smile, and a small laugh escaped him. He gave his head a bemused little shake, and when he looked at Obi-Wan again, there was a light there that hadn’t graced his expression in a long time. It lit Vader’s features like candle light. “You haven’t changed.”

“Neither have you. Not as much as you’d like to think.” Obi-Wan looked at him with a kind of compassion, one he was sure he wouldn’t have felt if the Sith standing before him didn’t look so much like his apprentice. He almost wished he had been faced with the machine-hearted thing from his dreams. “That’s how I know you’ve captured me for a reason. Tell me, _Darth Vader_.” He said the name as if he were humouring a child. “What do you need from me?”

There was a long moment of silence as Vader stared him down. Obi-Wan had quickly grown accustomed to the burning of his eyes and the weight of his emotions, the air was thick with them. Or, at least, he had grown very good at pretending they weren’t suffocating him. His gaze on Vader was just as intent as the one Vader held on him.

“You’re looking for more Jedi.” Obi-Wan went on, suddenly, as if it had just occurred to him. Like it was hidden somewhere in the Sith’s eyes and he had seen it. Vader folded his arms patiently behind his back and watched, but there was a twitch in his expression that told Obi-Wan he had hit the mark. There was a spiteful joy in him now that was very unbecoming of the man he still liked to think he was. He went on, his tone taunting. “How many have slipped through your fingers?”

“Up until recently, it was only two. There is a padawan on the run, who belonged to Billaba, but he is no threat. My troopers will eliminate him soon enough.” He turned to Obi-Wan as if it was the most casual conversation in the world. “You remember master Billaba, don’t you?” He raised his brows, and the frown on Obi-Wan’s face deepened.

For a while, to Obi-Wan, the Jedi  Order was nothing more than a mass grave. He would not have felt their deaths so fiercely if it weren’t for his connection to the Force, and so when their pain ended it left nothing but a dull, nameless ache of grief. Slowly, in quiet moments during his year of exile, names would come to him and he would have to mourn them anew. A new brother or sister buried in the graveyard he kept in his mind. Suddenly now, he had very keenly felt the absence of Depa from the Force. Vader went on, ignorant to Obi-Wan’s grief, or enjoying it.

 “Now, Obi-Wan, the number of Jedi unaccounted for stands at one.” Vader raised a hand, and in it was Obi-Wan’s ancient comm unit. The one Ahsoka had assured him no one would be monitoring. Obi-Wan tasted his own fear at the sight of it. He’d tried to reach out through the Force and snatch it, but something held him back. He felt his connection to the Force was trapped within him, and would go no further.

“Why bother?” He asked. Now Obi-Wan was having a more difficult time concealing his emotions, in all his years as a Jedi, only Anakin could have done this to him. He pushed his words out through bared teeth and fury. “You have killed us already, why bother with a couple of padawans? Like you said, they are no threat to you or your _Empire_.” Obi-Wan spoke the word as if it were an insult.

“You’re upset.”

“You _slaughtered_ us.”

Vader’s expression grew more grim, and his aura grew darker and more terrifying. Swifter than even Obi-Wan could see, Vader took a hold of him, lifted him with the Force so that his toes barely reached the floor, and then his hand reached out and pushed him back against the wall. Vader watched him with a barely contained rage flickering behind his eyes.

“If you wanted to ensure the Jedi lived on, you should not have left me alone with him, Obi-Wan. Yoda’s death is on your hands. You are just as much responsible for the death of the Jedi.”

“Your actions are your own.” He spat every word like it were poison, “ _You_ and your new master are the ones who saw to it that I would be the last of the Jedi, take responsibility for yourself at the very least.”

Obi-Wan’s words urged Vader closer, and his grip in the Force faltered, but it was replaced by a hand grasping at Obi-Wan’s robe and holding him against the wall. There was a ferocity in him, but Obi-Wan saw that is was being held back. He saw desperation too, as Vader searched for something in him, and the expression he wore was sickeningly familiar. If Obi-Wan didn’t know any better, he would swear Vader was looking for his forgiveness.

“I know you, Obi-Wan, you forget me. Even as powerful as I had been, I was foolish. I let my emotions overtake me; surely in my state you could have done it. If you had any love for the Jedi, you should have killed me.”

“You were my brother, Anakin!” Those words, shouted at him in despair, brought Vader back to Mustafar. He could feel the heat of the planet burning him all over again. “My brother. I loved you, how could I have killed you?”

Vader took a step back and let Obi-Wan drop back to his feet. He pushed away all his rage and his sorrow, and he turned away from him to face the door. “And now?”

Obi-Wan didn’t answer.

He watched as Vader sucked in a breath and squared his shoulders, and without a single glance back he was gone.

 

                 

 

                Vader had expected this to be far easier. He was going to use Obi-Wan to lure his former apprentice, and he was going to kill them both. Then, there would be nothing left to tie him to the Jedi. They had always preached that attachment was forbidden, Vader enjoyed the irony that ridding himself of them would make him a more powerful Sith, and it was going to be _so easy_.

That was until he met his former master face to face, and Anakin Skywalker’s thoughts began clawing their way into his mind. They had always been there, locked away in some closely guarded corner of his mind, and only coming to him as he slept. They would creep out and show him visions of things that never happened, and when he woke he would gather them up and lock them away again. Now, he found he couldn’t keep them at bay. He heard Anakin Skywalker’s voice murmuring in his ear like a conscience, reminding him of every burning thing that led him hear.

Darth Sidious could sense it. There was nothing between Vader and his master but contempt and distrust, but there was some sort of bond there all the same. It wasn’t the same as the bond he had once shared with Obi-Wan. It felt like a parasite that stole his secrets, and all the things he used to admire about himself, and would scurry back to Sidious with them. It felt like the Force that flowed between them was sick. He had wanted to be free of it the moment he was sure it was there, and even so, Sidious remained his master. Vader was pledged to him.

Vader found his master where he always did, a barren room that felt like home to the source of the dark side itself, right at the very end of the ship. The corridors that lead to it felt like they twisted and turned and went on forever, and Vader was sure Sidious could sense the fearful thing that approached; there was a terrible smile on his face when Vader stepped into view and looked down at him from the staircase. Somehow, even up here, his master’s gaze made him feel miniscule. He hated Sidious for it, but he hated himself more.

“There is something between you and the Jedi.” Before Vader had a chance to speak, his warbling, accusing voice came from the end of the room and filled it up. It was so commanding, Vader felt that if there wasn’t something there before, there would be now. Vader finally moved, taking slow and measured steps towards where Sidious was, sitting at the end of the room.

“Only history.” He said, and he watched the man carefully. “Now, he is finally to facilitate the death of the Jedi and the insignificant rebel movement, then he will be disposed of.”

Sidious could not be described as something entirely human anymore. Vader remembered the face he had seen as a boy, it had been kindly and tired, and a twelve-year-old Anakin Skywalker had trusted him immediately. The man called Chancellor Palpatine had become his family, listening to him and guiding him in ways even his closest friend wouldn’t, and he was sure the Jedi would disapprove of the things they shared. Vader remembered the moment all of that had changed, and he saw Sidious for who he truly was. Somehow, in that movement, all the years of his life on Coruscant had made perfect sense. He saw piercing yellow eyes, and blackened teeth, and the power of the dark side of the Force. He saw Mace Windu die, and the man he considered family turned into the creature he saw before him now, gnarled fingernails tapping impatiently against the armrest of what he was sure Sidious considered a throne.

“No.” The smile on Sidious’s face had disappeared, replaced with an expression of barely concealed fury which was far more terrible. “If that were true we would have the rebels in hand by now.”

There was a tense, silent moment, as if each of them was daring the other to defy what had been said.

“He means nothing to me, but I know him.” Vader began walking again, and this time there was no fear in him, and his eyes never left Sidious. “He was a dedicated Jedi; he would not give in to something as simple as pain. I must earn his trust.”

The eyes on Vader narrowed with loathing, and he felt the bore through him, as if Sidious was glaring right through him, searching for the truth. Vader felt the same sickly feeling he did whenever he had to speak to his master.

Finally he spoke again, in a failing voice that seemed to carry every ounce of hatred they felt for each other, Vader felt it like fire in the pit of his stomach.

“Do not fail me.”

 

                Obi-Wan had spent the hours before he heard his cell door open again in a meditative silence. He only opened his eyes to that familiar _hiss_ to find Vader in his doorway, wearing something akin to disappointment on his face. He stood there very quietly, the pair of them watching each other and unreadable, and Obi-Wan found a kind of unease settling over him.

“I’m going to give you one last chance.” Vader finally spoke, the cadence of his voice familiar and patient. It was a tone Obi-Wan had used with his padawan more times than he cared to remember, but there was no feeling behind it. Vader watched him with an icy kind of detachment, one that made Obi-Wan think they’d replaced some vital human parts of him with machines, and he thought that might be less painful than accepting that Anakin was lost to him. “If you don’t cooperate with me now, I can’t be held responsible for what happens to you.”

“You think I’m going to tell you where Ahsoka is.” He said, artificial warmth in his voice that flew in the face of his predicament, and was just as chilling as the absence of it in Vader. “I’m terribly sorry. Even if I did know where she was, I’d sooner die than tell you.”

“I didn’t expect any less from you.” He said, and drew in a long suffering breath. Obi-Wan could see Vader’s famous wrath brewing behind a mask of impatience “I don’t want you to tell me where she is, you’re going to bring Ahsoka and her pitiful fleet of rebels to me.” Vader found the comm unit in his robes, and he tossed it into the alcove that Obi-Wan was expected to use as a bed. “Hail her. Ask for help.”

“I am most certainly not going to do that.” Obi-Wan pushed himself to his feet in defiance, the wall of his cell at his back, his wrists still bound and his reach into the Force still muted. Losing his sway over the Force was as bad as having his arms cuffed behind his back, but it wasn’t a predicament he was unfamiliar with.

“Why?” on Vader’s face, Obi-Wan saw the familiar expression his old friend had worn when he was struggling with something. His brows knitted together ever so slightly, his jaw set as if he were fighting to keep his defiance, which could be seen flickering like a flame behind his eyes, inside of himself. He drew closer to Obi-Wan, inspecting him intently; looking for some kind of tell that would give him away. Give him away to what, neither of them knew. “Why are you so willing to give up your life for hers? She’s a criminal.”

“She is my family.” He said, the same kind of ferocity in his voice that only this man could have drawn from him. Vader was so close to him now, Obi-Wan could feel rage coming off him like heat. “She has done the same for me, and for you. Do you remember that, _Vader_?” Obi-Wan spat the name like it was vile on his tongue. “Do you remember caring? Family?”

“Do you think I did this because I wanted to?” He hardly gave Obi-Wan a second to breathe before he spoke. The tone of Vader’s voice, quiet and intense, made Obi-Wan’s reply die on his lips. He looked up to see eyes that seemed to be drowning in emotion, they flickered side to side, meeting Obi-Wan’s gaze in a way that felt familiar and foreign all at once. He leaned in, and Vader stood so close to him now, Obi-Wan thought if he breathed too deeply their robes would have pressed against each other, light against dark.  “I did this to _save_ my family. To save Padme.” He had whispered Padme’s name so softly, like if he spoke it any louder it would have been too harsh, and the sound of that voice in his ear and the heat of him ignited something inside Obi-Wan that he had fought years to subdue. He squeezed his eyes shut, and felt a warm tear on his cheek, and Vader continued in that same tortured tone. “It is too late for either of us, now. Just give the Emperor what he wants.”

There was a quiet instant and then took a step back. Neither man could look away from the other, and there was nothing to be heard but the quiet sound of breathing, the silence that fell between them now seemed to fill up the small room. For a moment, there in the silence, it was as if the year that separated them had never passed, and as if they were the only two people alive. Obi-Wan thought perhaps if his tongue slipped and he called him Anakin, the man in front of him would be Anakin. The pained expression on his face, he though, was so familiar he could have worn it walking away from a particularly harsh scolding from the council and, just like in those council meetings, Obi-Wan would bite his tongue. He wondered if the man before him felt the same hum in the air. Without as much as a change in expression, Vader spoke again, and Obi-Wan was pulled harshly back to the reality of the situation.

“Join me.” He said, and Obi-Wan took a moment to fully comprehend what it was that Vader was asking of him.

“Join you? Who do you think I am?” There was a harsh edge to his voice that only seemed to make Vader more determined to convince him.

“Together we can take the Empire.” He said, and he seemed to be imploring Obi-Wan with a familiar, heavy gaze. “I have always been stronger than Sidious, I can destroy him. You and I could have the galaxy, Obi-Wan. We could shape it however we please.”

“I am not going to join you in your delusions of grandeur, _Vader_.”

“We could make the Empire a force for good. With you by my side, Obi-Wan, imagine what we could do.”

“How can I trust you after what you’ve done?”

Obi-Wan watched as something in Vader’s gaze flickered out of life, and his expression was replaced with something stony and cold. He thought he would never forget that change for as long as he lived, as chilling as it was. It was like watching him become the machine he was so often mistaken for.

He reached out and took Obi-Wan by the shoulder, and spun him harshly so that he was pressed against the wall. He heard the metallic noises of chain-links and then his wrists were free, and Obi-Wan began to feel the pain in his wrists and shoulders from carrying around the weight of them. The Force came flooding back to him like feeling returning to numbed fingertips, and when Vader released him he turned to face him, rubbing at his aching joints.

“Make the call."

Obi-Wan stared back at Vader’s commanding gaze with steely defiance. The atmosphere around them both had grown quiet and sober, and all his wit died in his throat. Where before there was something like static in the air, there was nothing between them but the order the Sith had given. The chill of Vader’s gaze had grown infinitely more terrifying, and Obi-Wan thought he might finally stop seeing his apprentice when he looked at him.

It was only a moment before Vader moved again; he reached out for the comm and it flew obediently into his palm. Obi-Wan came for him now, tried to snatch it from the air before it reached him, but Vader’s hand caught his wrist far more quickly. There was an unsettling wildness in his eye now, warning and predatory, telling Obi-wan something far worse would happen if he continued to fight. He spun his wrist and tried to tug it free, and he felt the Force on his back knock him harshly into a wall and hold him there. Vader paced behind him, Obi-Wan’s commlink by his mouth.

“Ahsoka.” He said, and a few seconds later, again; “Ahsoka.” Without looking at him, Obi-Wan could hear the warm voice of his apprentice.

There was silence, and Obi-Wan could feel his heart racing painfully in his chest, and then the reply came in a voice he hadn’t heard in more than a year, “Anakin?”

“You leave her out of this,” Obi-Wan struggled against the gravity that restrained him, and he turned to face Vader with fierceness in his expression that neither of them had seen since Mustafar. “I will not allow any harm to come to her!” He wanted to say more, he wanted to scream at Vader until his throat was raw, about his betrayal and the hurt he felt welling up inside him now. Obi-Wan could bear it, but the thought of Ahsoka being betrayed in the same way all over again made Obi-Wan feel like his heart had stopped beating.

A second later Vader was against his back, pinning him to the wall in place of the Force, and a gloved hand had taken Obi-Wan by the mouth and silenced him. “I have Kenobi.” Vader spoke right into his ear, in a tone so sinister it made Obi-Wan shiver. “If you want him, come get him.”


	4. The beginning of something different

Obi-Wan had been moved from his neat cell to a room deep in the belly of the star destroyer, and he wasn’t bound but his door remained dutifully shut. He often found himself bored enough to feel out the bland little room with the force, he would reach out and touch the walls, to prod them for hidden passageways and vents and any other means of escape, he even pushed at the door though he was sure it wouldn’t move. The room down here was less barren, but it clearly was never meant to be lived in. It was bare, and reminded him far too much of his exile. He’d been given a cot that wasn’t built into the wall, and a small table and a surprisingly comfortable chair that looked starkly out of place, but down here it was cold, and the lights never worked properly, and Obi-Wan missed the rigid sounds of footsteps he could hear from his cell. He missed the company he had for those brief days. It was apparent that this room, for one reason or another, was out of use.

Sometimes, during one of the many arbitrary night cycle’s he’d spent in this new cell, he would hear a single set of footsteps approaching. The sound of those footsteps ringing through disused halls was as lonely as the silence that followed them, and as lonely as the odd feeling they brought, that Obi-Wan could never quite put his finger on. He had a feeling, if those doors opened; he knew who would be waiting for him on the other side, but they never did.

He awoke to the eerie, far-off sound of wailing of alarms, and to a room bathed in red light, and for a second he cursed the irony of that light working reliably when his others didn’t, then his waking mind caught up with him. He sat up, and with his hand on the wall he listened, and he felt through the Force. There was no attack on the ship, not one that was obvious to him, and the thought of that only made him more anxious to find out what sounded this alarm.  All he could feel were the hurried steps of troopers and a nervous energy throughout the rest of the ship. This felt like a trap, though he couldn’t be sure who it was intended for, and as usual he wasn’t about to wait around for someone to spring it on him.

When he pushed at the door this time, it gave easily, and slid back on its tracks, with a little too much force so that it let out a hollow _thud_ when it hit the end. The outside of the room was similar to the inside, bathed in red light, empty, and familiar. To Obi-Wan, the belly of a flag ship lit up in red was a sight he knew far too well. He could see the halls and room of the ship laid out in front of him, as if someone had handed him a map; he knew exactly which turns he’d be taking to get to command, to the war room and his captain, to the medbay, to the escape pods, he had felt himself take those turns a thousand times.

But this wasn’t his ship, and this wasn’t his war. He suspected now, as he glanced back into his cell, that those routes would no longer take him to places he recognized. He could hear the sound of footsteps that didn’t belong to his clones a floor above him, but the halls down here appeared to be barren, and he stepped quietly from his room with a welcome ease. If he was clever about it, he could make his way unseen to the hangar, which Obi-Wan was sure he would find where he remembered it to be. That was the plan; find a ship, and escape in the confusion of whatever had tripped the alarms.

Fortunately, Obi-Wan had found the lower levels to be quite empty, but his luck had to run out eventually. From the end of a darkened hall he could hear a solitary set of footsteps approaching, and he pressed himself tightly into a bay in the wall, between the pipes and wires that ran like veins through the ship. He had expected Vader to come for him, to continue his habit of showing up at the least convenient of times, and his heart thudded in his chest so loudly he could hardly here. Obi-Wan took a moment to settle his racing pulse, and he realized those footsteps were far too gentle to have belonged to Vader. Instead of deliberate and foreboding, these were light, like the ghosts of footfalls on the steel floor. They were familiar. He was almost as frightened as if they _had_ belonged to Vader.

Obi-Wan took as deep a breath as he could, wedged in between the tight walls, and slid back into the hallway. Awash in crimson light he saw Ahsoka there, taller than he remembered her. She stopped in her tracks, and features that were older but undeniably _hers_ betrayed a flurry of emotions, most of which translated to how overjoyed she was just to see her old friend, alive.

The pair of them was silent for a moment, and then Obi-Wan reached out for her, but she was quicker, her arms pulled him in with an impressive strength.

Obi-Wan hadn’t truly expected her to come for him. He was sure there were things far more important than rescuing a self-proclaimed hermit. But here she was, and he felt something fond and grateful swell in his chest. He hugged her back with the same kind of strength, it was the kind of hug that said everything that neither of them had time to say, and Ahsoka pulled back very quickly.

 “We can have a reunion once I get you out of here.”  There was something stern about the way she spoke that he’d never noticed before. He’d known her as a precocious padawan, younger than her skills made her seem to be, always trying to prove herself to everyone older or higher in rank, but now there was an easy air of command about her that he found himself obeying. He wondered just how hard she had become since leaving the Order, and if it was a mistake not to stop her.

The sounds of far-off footsteps rumbled like thunder through the ship, it reminded them both of the danger they had almost forgotten, both heads turned towards the sound, and it seemed to be approaching. Ahsoka took his hand, and gave him a small tug in the direction of her ship, and then they were both running.

To Obi-Wan it felt like squads of troopers were waiting around every corner, that _someone_ was waiting to have their hands on him and have him bound again, and he felt naked without his lightsaber. He wondered if it was somewhere on this ship, and he wondered if he would still be skilled enough without it to buy Ahsoka enough time to escape, but around every corner the halls were empty. They had slowed from running to a tense, silent tiptoeing through the ship. Ahsoka led him to a quiet, forgotten bay, bathed in failing lights, and in the centre of it there was a long defunct airlock. Obi-Wan could see where it had been welded shut and then carved open again. Ahsoka pulled the stiff joints of the door open, and it groaned louder in protest than she did in effort.

“You still have your lightsabers.” He remarked as casually as he ever did. Obi-Wan was studying the way the steel  had given way, the familiar way that only the blade of a lightsaber could achieve, his hand stroking idly at his chin like an old habit.

“Come on!” She hissed back at him. Ahsoka had already opened the door while he was distracted and climbed aboard her ship, and she beckoned him to follow her. Obi-Wan’s attention came back to her without much urgency, and he took a step back and began to push the stubborn door closed.

“What are you doing?” She asked, and the look on her face told Obi-Wan she knew exactly what he was doing. She kneeled in the recess in the wall, one hand steadying herself against the frame and the other stopping him from closing the door any further, and her expression changed to one he had missed dearly. She used to wear it whenever her master said or did something that suggested he wasn’t taking her seriously, and she was determined to prove him wrong.

“I’m not going with you.” Obi-Wan found the door wouldn’t quite give, now that Ahsoka was holding it back.

“That airlock isn’t going to hold once my ship is gone.” She didn’t take her eyes off him, and they held as much emotion as they always had. Obi-Wan couldn’t quite bear the pleading in them now, so he turned away to study the ruined metal around the door.

“Yes, and if we do it right, the Empire might lose a flagship.”

“What about Luke?” She sounded desperate now. Obi-Wan swallowed away the tightness in his throat and looked back.

“I will watch over him, as I vowed to do.” He promised, and it was so much heavier than the ten words that came from his mouth, and much more sincere than she had ever heard his tone. It made her remember a particular part of the Jedi code.

“Obi-Wan—“

“Go.” He said, and gave the door another heaving shove, and it was halfway closed. “The rebellion needs you. Guide them. Topple the Empire.” Obi-Wan paused, and his expression was grave. “If I go with you, he’ll kill you. He’ll kill the whole rebellion.”

Ahsoka didn’t move, her expression was as steely as ever, and her hands still tried to pry the airlock open again and drag Obi-Wan inside. She would have, he knew that, and then something in the air changed. Obi-Wan put his hand on hers, and suddenly her expression fell and she looked up to meet his gaze. He was smiling at her; it was such a bright smile, hinted with something sombre that made it hard to breathe.

“Goodbye, old friend.” His voice was so soft and familiar, she took a second to commit it to her memory, and then she had to pull herself out of the way as the stubborn metal came loose and the airlock slammed shut.

He stayed there, silent, his hand on the door. The clanking sounds of a ship undocking, and the dangerous _hiss_ of air escaping through the ragged edges of it told him she had listened, but through the tiny viewport in the door he could see her ship was hovering just a few metres from the side of the star destroyer, idling. He watched her there, hesitating, and from somewhere behind himself he felt the prickly presence of Vader.

In the silence he heard something skitter across the floor, and he looked down to find his commlink had skidded to a stop by his feet.

“Call her back.” He said, through bared teeth and barely contained fury. “Tell her you changed your mind.”

“She wouldn’t believe it.” Obi-Wan turned to face Vader, who looked like a spectre bathed in all that red light. The heel of his boot came down on the comm and cracked it open, its electrical parts spilled, broken onto the floor, and turned in time to see Ahsoka’s ship vanish into hyperspace.

Vader’s lightsaber buzzed dangerously into life. Obi-Wan saw it now, saw that it was almost identical to the one he had carried during the wars. He wondered if it was the same one, and then very quickly the weight of the situation settled on his shoulders. When he looked Vader in the eye, there was a kind of sadness there; mixed in with the defiance he’d grown so accustomed to.

Vader only shoved past him, and used the heat of his saber to seal up the torn steel around the airlock.

 

                Obi-Wan’s shoulder ached. He had expected punishment for his attempt at escaping, but he hadn’t expected that punishment to be so mild. After he’d repaired the hull as best he could, Vader had ordered the crew to evacuate, and marched Obi-Wan back to his cell with his arm twisted behind his back, as if he hadn’t been planning on letting every single one of them die. As if he hadn’t been figuring out how to maximize the damage of the torn hull, before he was the first to be sucked into space.

Obi-Wan couldn’t feel the souls of the droids who were in control of the bridge now. He and Vader were the only two living things aboard the ship now, and all he could feel was Vader’s pervasive stare, though he wasn’t looking to see it.

“I don’t understand you.” There were hints of familiar fury on the edges of his words, but there was more than that. Frustration. Disappointment. Somehow, Obi-Wan thought, Vader had thought better of him. The thought settled on him that they had finally become strangers to each other. It should’ve happened a long time ago, but Obi-Wan couldn’t bring himself to stop seeing Anakin’s face or hearing Anakin’s voice, and Vader liked to think that the year that separated them hadn’t changed Obi-Wan as much as it had.

Obi-Wan didn’t speak.

“I made it so easy for you.” Vader spoke to him in a stern, quiet voice, as if he were afraid one of the droids on the higher levels might hear.

Obi-Wan finally looked up, and Vader could read the subtle hints of confusion on his face. There was something passionate about Vader’s stare, but it wasn’t malicious.

“Why do you think I didn’t go with her?” He asked, suddenly offended. “I’m not stupid, Vader, or had you forgotten that, too? I told you I would allow no harm—“

“You did it for her.”

“I did it so that you and your _lackeys_ would not find a single rebel cell.”

“Yes, but you did it for _her_.” Something about the way Vader spoke told Obi-Wan he wasn’t making an assumption that happened to be right. He said it like he _knew_ , like he had been able to see inside Obi-Wan’s thoughts, and see that helping the rebellion had been a convenient consequence of helping Ahsoka. “You love her.”

“Of course I love her.” Obi-Wan spat, passion in his voice that burned just as hot as Vader’s did. “You did too, once.”

Vader looked away, a familiar look of torment on his face that made Obi-Wan wish for just a moment that he hadn’t been so harsh. The man in front of him wasn’t the man he knew, he had to remind himself. This was Vader, Sith lord, the man who slaughtered every Jedi on sacred Corustanti grounds, whose master ordered that every last Jedi die. Somehow, he couldn’t quite see the face of that man in Vader now.

“I did love her.” He said, in a voice which seemed much more sure than his expression. “Look where love landed me. Perhaps the Jedi are right to keep away from such emotion.” He said, as if they might still exist somewhere. “Perhaps I should have listened when they lectured me.”

“Anakin—“ It was such a familiar conversation, the name slipped from his mouth before he could stop it, soft and full of pity.

Vader looked up again, and Obi-Wan found it hard to breathe under his stare. It was softer than before, crushing in the weight of it, he was so close now Obi-Wan could practically see his pulse, and then before either of them had time to think, Vader had leaned in and kissed him.

Obi-Wan found it very difficult to remember how they’d arrived here. He found it very difficult to think of much at all besides the warm hand on his cheek, and how tender this man was, how soft his lips. Perhaps he had been expecting Vader’s mouth to be as hard as his voice, but right now it was more difficult than it had ever been to decide whether he was Vader or Anakin. Obi-Wan thought, right now, that he was neither.

He let himself think that for a moment longer before he turned away, and the hand fell from his face, but Vader didn’t move and Obi-Wan didn’t push him away. There was no discernible emotion around them, the air was empty and everything was silent. So quiet, if they listened close enough, they might be able to hear the orbits of nearby planets or the sounds of stars burning, Obi-Wan could certainly hear his pulse rushing in his ears, and he was sure he could hear Vader’s too. He felt the tug of something familiar in the force, and he felt something prickly make its way up the back of his neck, as if Vader’s gaze was electrified.

“You’re not safe here anymore.” Vader murmured, as if Obi-Wan had ever been safe to begin with. He finally moved back, and something about him had changed. Ever since he’d first seen Obi-Wan in his cell, there had been some sort of perpetual confusion that Obi-Wan could see on him, and now it seemed to have given way to something else. Something far more powerful, that neither of them could put a finger on. “Wait here.”

“Where else am I going to go? Dex's?” Obi-Wan called after Vader as he left, but the door had already slid shut behind him.

               

                Vader didn’t lock the door to Obi-Wan’s room, not quite. He placed a hand on the door, and the mechanism inside responded by latching shut. It would hold Obi-Wan if he didn’t prod at it too hard. Part of him wished he could have the man beside him for what would happen next, that he could openly defy his new master. He was a coward and a traitor, after all, or at least that’s what Sidious had taught him he was. He had never questioned it before, but long lost memories of Obi-Wan’s praise swam into his mind. _Wise and brave_ , he had called Anakin. Now, Vader supposed that taking a new name had been appropriate. Though parts of that boy still lived inside him, Vader had done his very best to destroy them. He was beginning to wish them back.

Obi-Wan had escaped his cell in time to catch the tail end of what seemed to be a very tense conversation.

“They both managed to escape.” He heard. In the next room, Vader’s shadow was cast by the flickering blue light of a holocomm. His face seemed much softer lit in such a cold colour. Obi-Wan pressed himself tightly against the wall and listened.

“One day, my patience for your failure will run short, young Vader.” The voice of Darth Sidious came hollowly from the call, and still managed to sound awful. His voice sounded as though it had to claw its own way out from the bottom of the ancient man’s throat.

“I’m personally heading the search for Kenobi—“

“Kenobi isn’t our concern. He is an old man on the run.” There was a more pronounced hint of poison in his voice now, but Vader’s expression didn’t flinch. He simply went on.

“And he’s gone to the rebellion. If I find him, I will find them all.”

Obi-Wan heard Sidious begin to speak again, but Vader cut him off brazenly, “I will not fail you again, Master.” He said, and the blue light of the call died. Even now, as Vader lied to protect him, and he was sure there was more of Anakin still there in him than either of them had ever bargained for, the sound of his voice calling someone else _master_ made his stomach turn. His mind was filled with memories of the purge. He saw his fellow Jedi, scattered on the floor like debris, children with burn marks on their training robes, his apprentice down on one knee.

“I thought I told you to stay put.” Vader’s voice came, and pulled Obi-Wan back to the present.

“Yes, well, I feel as though the rules have stopped applying.”

Vader didn’t reply, and in the dark his eyes appeared to be glowing. He could feel the conflict rolling off Obi-Wan just as keenly as he could feel it inside himself. There was silence as each man tried to size the other up. They were enemies now, both of them knew that very well, and somehow there was still something drawing them together.

Obi-Wan held on to the thought that his old pupil could be saved, and Vader’s head was filled with fantasies of running away, and neither of them spoke. Neither of them had any real hope that a future existed where either of them could be happy.

“I’m taking you away from here.” Vader said, in a tone of voice that almost sounded as if he was asking permission.

“I’m not going anywhere with you. Not until you give me an explanation.” Obi-Wan folded his arms inside the sleeves of his robes, and he regarded Vader as distantly as he would any enemy. The sight of it cut Vader deeper than he cared to admit, he squared his jaw and continued.

“There isn’t time—“

“An explanation, _Darth_.” The title was cold and cutting, coming from Obi-Wan. It made Vader flinch.

“I don’t owe you anything, not when I’ve just saved your life. You are coming with me, Obi-Wan.” He said, a darkness seeping back into his voice. “Do not forget who is in control here.”

Obi-Wan raised his head in a gesture of defiance, but he found that Vader was right.

 

                Commands were given to the droids that would remain behind, and then Obi-Wan was led to a part of the ship’s hangar which could only be described as storage. illuminated by a light that seemed about as reliable as the one in Obi-Wan’s storage closet of a cell, an old Corellian freighter sat in the corner, looking as though someone had locked it away here in secret. He glanced over at Vader, who was already making his way towards the ship.

“Are you sure you still remember how to fly that thing?” Obi-Wan asked him, before following.

Vader looked back and gave him a poisonous look, and somehow it seemed like the least threatening expression Obi-Wan had seen him wear.

The inside of the flagship had only been familiar in a theoretical kind of way. The insides were darker than he remembered, marked with red crests that resembled gears or wheels. They had reminded him of the Republic insignia in the same way Vader’s star destroyer had reminded him of his own, but stepping inside the freighter was like going back in time. The ship meandered into life, and bathed everything in an almost iridescent light, and he could see that it had remained untouched.

He heard the hatch hiss closed behind him, and he followed Vader into the cockpit. Slowly, the ship’s engines hummed with power, it lifted of the floor of the hangar, and spun and locked into place as it travelled outside the confines of the flagship. The sight from the cockpit made Obi-Wan’s breath catch in his throat.  The star destroyer loomed beside them, and everything else was overtaken by glittering stars and inky-black sky, still and silent, as if they’d been frozen there.

A second later and all Obi-Wan could do was worry. There was a reason he hated flying, and flying with Anakin in particular, and he didn’t hold out much hope that Vader had grown any more sensible when it came to piloting. He made a point of sitting himself down in the co-pilot’s chair and strapping himself in.

“Just remember that you don’t intend on killing me,” He said, and then murmured, “At least I hope.”

“I didn’t go to the trouble of lying to Sidious for nothing.” Vader shot back, and the ship lurched forward, pressing Obi-Wan back in his seat.

Stars streaked by them, like the points of light had been pressed against the viewport and then forced off again with the sheer speed of the ship moving forward, and then they were surrounded by the familiar swirling blues of hyperspace. 


	5. The man who was his apprentice

The vibrant blue and green planet that had sprung into view, as the ship dropped out of hyperspace, wasn’t a familiar one. At least not to Obi-Wan, who’d spent many years as a Jedi traveling to distant planets. It gave him a brief and overwhelming sense of the vastness of the universe, and he felt a pang of nostalgia for his life before the war. The navicomputer gave him co-ordinates that placed them somewhere on the edges of the outer rim, maybe even far enough from the core to be considered uncharted space. Wherever Vader had taken him, the stars were foreign and the planet, even from such a distance, was picturesque. It definitely wasn’t Tatooine, as Obi-Wan had held onto some futile and obligatory hope it would be.

And despite his worries, and despite that jump into hyperspace, which Vader had made just rocky enough to jostle Obi-Wan in his seat, he was just as capable as Obi-Wan remembered. He brought the ship gently down on a well concealed landing pad, hidden from view by flora wild enough to remind him of Felucia; though it was cooler here, and he thought the plant life was much prettier.

The outside of the estate was vibrant, richly coloured, and just large enough so that it would feel homely with a family inside it. When Obi-Wan stepped inside behind Vader, and Vader flicked the lights on, it was clear this place was supposed to be someone’s home, but right now it was frigid and empty of any kind of life. Despite how well furnished the place was, and how open the windows, which let in as much of the planet’s fading sunset-coloured light as they could manage, it was still all too clear that this place had never been lived in. The deep colours of it seemed flat with Vader’s long shadow cast over them.

“What is this?” Obi-Wan asked, catching up so he could stand beside Vader, where he’d paused just past the threshold. It felt as if something was holding him there, stopping Vader from going any further inside, as if he were an intruder. Obi-Wan turned to face him, but Vader’s gaze drifted around the place with a tangible unease.

“A refuge.” He said, finally, quietly. “Sidious doesn’t know about it.”

“So, I am to be your house guest?” There was a dubious, irritated tone to his voice.

“You will be safe here, Obi-Wan.” Vader turned to face him, and there was something imploring about the way his expression sat. Something familiar, to Obi-Wan.

“If I have any say in the matter, I’d like to return to Tatooine. I’ll be safe there.”

“On Tatooine?” Vader stared him down for a moment, trying to find the joke in what he’d said. “It’s a good thing you don’t have any say in the matter. Tatooine is where my troopers found you to begin with.”

Obi-Wan bit his tongue, and Vader could read the defiance on his face, but it was somehow different to the expression he’d worn on the star destroyer.

The secret Obi-Wan was keeping caught in his throat. He couldn’t open his mouth without letting it out, and he wanted so badly to just let it out, but this man wasn’t Anakin. He hadn’t earned any right to know about the children, Luke and Leia had been secreted away because of him. He wasn’t the man who was their father, not yet, and despite everything, Obi-Wan hoped, as fervently as he had ever hoped anything, that one day he would be able to tell Anakin about his children.

“It’s late,” Vader said, cutting down the tension of the silence that had come between them like a wall. “Follow me.”

He led Obi-Wan through the house, and Obi-Wan didn’t pay a great deal of attention to where they were going. Vader hadn’t turned any lights on past that first room, and he was tired from the flight, as uneventful as it had been. Vader brought him to the entrance to a rather humble room, which housed nothing more than a bed and a closet, and a wide window that faced a denser part of the forest. He lifted his arm, and looked to face Obi-Wan again, Vader presenting the room to him.

“It’s yours.” He said, simply, and the tone of his voice implied something more. It felt more final than being allowed to stay here for the time being.

“You have done a lot of ridiculous things in your lifetime, Vader, but this is the most ridiculous, by far.” Obi-Wan folded his arms and regarded the room with his brows drawn low. He wasn’t looking to see that Vader had tensed at the mention of his name, and the cutting way that Obi-Wan still spoke it.

“Would you rather I left you on an Imperial star destroyer?” He asked, his voice colder than it had been a moment ago.

“If I’d known I’d be living with you on some remote planet, I would have left with Ahsoka.” Obi-Wan shot back.

“Who says I’m staying?” Vader asked, and Obi-Wan looked up to find the man’s gaze on him again. It had been too easy for him to encourage the banter that used to come so naturally for them.

“If you meant to exile me,” He said, still joking at least a little. “You might’ve picked some place less pleasant.”

“Like Tatooine?” Vader looked down at Obi-Wan with the hint of a quirked brow, a challenge in his expression, and Obi-Wan said nothing. The words that came from Vader felt familiar, but his face was stony. Still, something told Obi-Wan that Vader felt those hints of familiarity as much as he did. “I am staying.” He said, after that short pause. “Sidious thinks I’m looking for the rebel base.”

“I don’t think you’d find one if you _were_ looking.” 

“Get some rest, Obi-Wan.” Vader’s voice came to his ears softly, and Obi-Wan was nudged inside the room in time for the door to slide shut behind him.

It _was_ humble at first glance, before Obi-Wan could find any kind of light source. Once he did, though, the room was illuminated by a gently glowing light, and it caught things on the walls and threw their diffused shadows. Everything was coloured mahogany and soft beige and black, and Obi-Wan thought he could see a shine of gold here and there. On the headboard of the bed, and around the closet’s doors and the edges of the window there were ornate vines carved into the wood, they seemed to become the green, living ones that he could see twisting and creeping up the walls and the window outside. He ran his finger along the path of one of the vines, and he found the subtle elegance and grandeur, reminded him of Padme for a short moment.

He shook himself free of the thought, and his attention turned to the closet. Inside he found clean clothes and towels, which told him he would probably find a refresher nearby. He was suddenly aware of just how long it had been since he’d seen a shower. He set of in search for it immediately, and found the door that lead to it in the corner of the room.

Obi-Wan hadn’t had the opportunity to see his reflection in a long time. When he caught himself in the mirror there, his first thought was that he looked old, and older in comparison to how new everything in this place seemed. He would never have called himself vain, but the life of a Jedi and his connection to the force had kept him young, and he had quite enjoyed it while it lasted. He wondered if this tired, sun-baked man he saw in the mirror was the first thing Vader had thought of him. He wondered if, under all the grime and sand, Vader could still see the face of his master, or if that face had still meant anything to him. If that face could have brought Anakin back to him.

Obi-Wan let his gaze drop, unwilling to entertain those kinds of thoughts, and he quickly made his way away from the mirror and to the shower.

It felt like a distant memory to be standing under flowing water again, warm and comforting, and easing out all the tension and the aches that had long since settled into his bones. He had to make a conscious effort to remind himself that, wherever here was, water clearly wasn’t scarce, and soon after that he forgot time altogether. He felt his mind empty, slowly, of all his cluttered thoughts, and a welcome serenity filled it up instead. He was almost there. Almost meditating, almost sleeping, only pulled from it when the water ran cold and brought him back to the current, unpleasant reality of his situation. Very reluctantly, he stopped the flow of water.

Somehow, even though the clothes were made to fit someone slightly more slender, Obi-Wan found they did fit him, just comfortably. He emerged cleaner than he could remember feeling in an age, and dressed in snug night clothes, back into his room. For a moment he allowed himself to forget he was still someone’s prisoner. It was a moment long enough for him to find his way the bed, and drift into the most restful sleep he’d had in years.

 

                He woke to the pleasant, dappled green light that filtered in through the canopy. The chill of early morning air had eased him from a black and dreamless sleep, and he found that the home didn’t quite feel as lifeless as it had the night before, as if the force had begun to seep into the walls. Obi-Wan had never quite known the sensation of huddling under his blankets for warmth on a cold morning, so he lay there a few seconds longer before dragging himself out into the bracing air.

He refused to be Vader’s house guest.

As adamantly as he refused, he found he couldn’t quite stop himself from dressing at a leisurely pace, and padding out of his room barefoot on the smooth wooden floors. The place even looked more like a home in the light of day. From the hall he’d emerged into he could see through to the large living space, bright, airy and open. He caught a glimpse of the dining area, and he was suddenly aware of just how hungry he was.

He could see Vader through the doorway, standing on the balcony and surveying the greenery with his hands folded neatly behind his back. Even when Vader had been his apprentice, it wasn’t unusual for Obi-Wan to find him awake first. Obi-Wan remembered when the boy had been plagued by tormenting visions.

As early as it was, Obi-Wan found there was a steaming bowl of _something_ waiting for him, and it looked just edible enough that he didn’t care what it was or whether it was meant for him. It looked more edible than what he’d been served as a prisoner, when he’d been given food at all. He took the bowl and wandered out into the open air of the balcony, and watched Vader silently.

“Are you meditating?” Obi-Wan asked finally, he leaned against the far wall and watched his former pupil with only slightly exaggerated astonishment. “I’m sure I couldn’t get you to sit still for a moment. I am a little insulted.”

There was the hint of a smile on his face as he replied. “Time has a way of maturing even the most stubborn of things. Even me, master.” The expression on his face changed very suddenly, and Obi-Wan thought he could sense a hint of fear in the air. “I made you breakfast.” Vader added, very quickly.

“So this was for me,” Obi-Wan answered, pushing away a surge of emotions he felt upon hearing what was once used as an affectionate title. He stuffed a spoonful of what he had found to be oats in his mouth, and swallowed before going on. “It appears I _am_ to be your house guest. Don’t make a habit of this, Vader, people will get the wrong idea.”

“Well, this is a house, and I suppose I would prefer you were my guest rather than my prisoner. There is a reason this place is so remote.”

“Right, to _keep me safe_.” Obi-Wan shot back, and sounded a little harsher than he’d meant to.

“Right.” Was all Vader said, and then he slipped back into silence.

“Why am I here?” Obi-Wan asked after a short pause.

“Who do you want to go back to Tatooine.”

Neither of them spoke and Obi-Wan didn’t eat. There was something gnawing at the back of his mind, begging to get out. They just stood there for a moment, each staring the other down.

“Many things have changed.” Obi-Wan said finally, and he sounded sombre. He was homesick for the familiarity they shared once. “Tatooine is my home now.”

“Tatooine isn’t anyone’s home.” Vader’s tone had changed to something more disdainful, his thoughts filled with the sandy planet where he was born, and he finally moved, turning to face Obi-Wan.

“Well, it is mine.” He said, and he found he couldn’t quite look at Vader after that.

“You’re keeping something from me.” Vader said, carefully, and Obi-Wan looked up at him again. There was something electric in the way their eyes met. “I can feel it Obi-Wan.” He went on in an earnest tone. Vader didn’t mean the secret that was being kept from him, Obi-Wan could read it on him. Not quite like he used to, but reading Vader, he found, was becoming easier.

“A connection like the one we shared is a terrible thing to sever, Vader.” Obi-Wan’s spoke solemnly, like he was still grieving for it.

“Don’t call me that.” Vader snapped back. He almost sounded as though he was sulking as he replied, and he turned away to look down at his feet.

“It is your name, isn’t it? What else am I supposed to call you?” Obi-Wan asked. It was clear he wasn’t going to get a reply. “You are not Anakin.” He said, almost chastising Vader for it, “Not right now.”

“No,” He said, still looking down as he gave a small shake of his head. “I am not.”

“Well, Skywalker.” He said, and he saw the man respond by looking up again, a little sullen. “What exactly are we supposed to do for fun around here?”

 

                The home seemed to be perched somewhere close to the canopy, so it wasn’t much of a surprise to find out that there was a lower level, and probably another one after that, Obi-Wan thought. The lower level was a wide, open space, the size of the floor above it, and bright with the same green-tinged light that filtered in through the trees. The two walls that weren’t taken up with windows, where taken up instead by sparsely decorated shelves.

“I haven’t had time to fill it up.” Skywalker said, almost apologizing for it, from close behind where Obi-Wan had paused at the bottom of the stairs.

Obi-Wan found the shelves to be decorated with texts and recordings on a number of topics. Fiction, non-fiction, history, politics, the force, the Jedi and the Sith, both ancient and new. He wandered by the shelves, perusing idly, before his attention was caught by a small, free standing shelf at the end of the room. Packed to the brim, and surrounded by comfortable looking chairs.

“What’s so special about that one?” Obi-Wan looked back at Vader, a brow quirked as he pointed over to it, just for a moment before he made his way over.

The shelf was packed with holocrons, and holorecordings, and archaic bound-paper books that Obi-Wan thought might crumble if he breathed too deeply. Nothing was labelled, but Obi-Wan had a feeling they didn’t need to be.

“It’s my personal collection.” He replied, finally, still somewhere by the staircase. Obi-Wan’s fingers hovered over the objects, and Vader made his way over slowly. “There are films around here somewhere.” He said, though he made no effort to look for them.

Obi-Wan didn’t reply. His hands had stopped over a recording, which he plucked carefully from the shelf, and inspected for a moment before he managed to turn it on. Vader was eerily quiet behind him.

Padme’s voice rung through the empty space, loud enough to startle Obi-Wan so that he almost dropped the thing in his hands. Suddenly Obi-Wan’s chest felt tight. Skywalker hovered over his shoulder, and Obi-Wan could feel the ache coming from him like heat.

“I built it for her,” He said, and paused, watching the recording carefully. Her steady voice echoed, and Obi-Wan couldn’t tell if it was the recording or the empty room, but she was solid for a moment. She was as alive as she had ever been. She was addressing the senate, looking as though she were a force of nature rather than a woman, and Obi-Wan could see the dress she wore was to hide her growing belly. “For our child.”

Obi-Wan felt something twist painfully in his gut, and he had to switch the recording off with shaking hands. He turned to face the man who had brought him here, and he found Anakin standing in front of him instead. His brows pulled down low, mouth closed tight, and his eyes full of tears that could’ve fallen at any second. It was a familiar and agonizing sight. Obi-Wan’s heart stuttered, and his chest felt startlingly empty.

“I’m sorry,” Obi-Wan started, he found that his voice didn’t want to come out. He fought the urge to reach out and touch Anakin’s face before he disappeared again. “I didn’t know.”

Anakin didn’t reply. He took the recorder from Obi-Wan’s hand, set it back among the ones that sat on the shelf, and after a moment he turned to leave. He paused by the chairs, and Obi-Wan thought he might say something. He willed Anakin to say anything, but he didn’t. Obi-Wan couldn’t look away from him until he had finally crossed the room and disappeared up the stairs, and even then, he stared blankly upwards for longer than he cared to notice.

His head spun, he felt sick at the thought of the boy upstairs. That he _was_ Anakin. That Anakin was still in there somewhere, and Obi-Wan might have just seen him for the last time.

Finally, he looked back, and he found his lightsaber resting on the arm of one of the lounge chairs. 

 

It was a handful of days later that Anakin could bear to look at him again. Perhaps a week, though it was hard to tell. He had spent those days in solitude, waiting while Obi-Wan explored the house, and listening to him, restless most nights, just a room away.

Obi-Wan was in there, too, among the recordings somewhere. So was Ahsoka, and he was sure there was a holopic or two of Qui-Gon. They were a lot of small, sentimental things that he couldn’t quite bring himself to throw away, or not to take with him once he’d stumbled upon them. He’d kept them locked away and secret on his star destroyer, before this place had finally been built.

He wasn’t sure what time it was, only that it was late, and that he couldn’t bear listening to Obi-Wan toss anymore, or to feel how painfully wakeful he was. Anakin—who was sure now that there was still part of him that wanted to be Anakin—could feel Obi-Wan in the next room, as surely as if he was standing right in front of him. He pulled himself from his bed, and before he knew where he intended to go he was standing outside Obi-Wan’s room, knocking quietly on the door.

Anakin held his breath, and then Obi-Wan’s voice came, sounding resigned. “Come in.”

Anakin found him sitting on the bed, wearing on his face every hour of sleep that had escaped him, and every awful thought that had caused it. Obi-Wan gave him a little nod, and he closed the door quietly behind him. And then, like a chastened puppy, he came over and crawled into the bed, lay in the half of it that remained untouched by Obi-Wan. The weight on Anakin’s chest disappeared when Obi-Wan lay down beside him, but it was replaced by his heavy stare, like Obi-Wan was still trying to figure him out. Anakin couldn’t blame him. He was still trying to figure himself out, but he ached for when this was all so much easier.

There was a silence between them that could’ve only come along with the dead of night. No wind in the trees, no chirping insects, no signs that time was passing at all until Obi-Wan spoke.

“Why did you bring me here?” He asked, and his soft voice hardly broke the silence at all.

For a moment, Anakin wanted to answer; _Because I loved you, once_. It was a complicated feeling in his belly, like the memory of love, and like longing for it. There had been love between them, once, he was sure. It had been so big, so constant, so tangled up in the force around them that Anakin had never questioned which one of them it was coming from. They had been two halves of a whole, and it had come from both of them at once.

Instead, when he spoke, he asked, “Why do you want to go back to Tatooine?” Though it was evident Obi-Wan wasn’t going to answer him. He let out a deep sigh, and rolled onto his back. “Padme and I wouldn’t have been able to live on Coruscant, not after the baby was born. I would have been expelled from the order, and Padme told me she wouldn’t be allowed to serve in the senate. I wanted somewhere that was ours, and then,” Anakin’s voice died, he couldn’t bear to talk about what had happened. What he’d _done_ to her.

When he went on, there was an odd, fiery intensity to him, his gaze bored holes in the ceiling. “At first I could only think about how powerful I’d already become. I could have stopped it. I could have held death in my hand and bent it to my will, so why couldn’t I reverse it, too? What was stopping me?” He paused, and that fire left him. “I just wanted something to remember her by. Somewhere that no one could touch me. It’s safe here.  I intended it as home for the people I loved.”

“Do you love me?” Obi-Wan asked, and the question surprised even him.

There was shame about Anakin, but it seemed more like the memory of shame. Like a reflex he’d learned a long time ago. “Do you love me?” He echoed the question.

“Jedi are forbidden to form attachments.” Obi-Wan said, like a phrase that was learned just to be repeated.

“Neither of us are Jedi. Not since a long time ago.” Anakin almost seemed wistful as he spoke. It was no secret how little he had cared for the Jedi order as a whole. Other, forbidden things had been what kept him at the temple.

“I should have seen it coming.” Obi-Wan said, after a moment, “I knew what Palpatine was doing. I saw you falling and I-“ He began again, but Anakin turned to face him, and he stopped. Static hung in the air between them. “I’m sorry.” He whispered, and Anakin only stared.

“You have the nightmares too, don’t you?” Anakin asked, and somehow that was an apology, too.

“I do.”

“About Qui-Gon? I know I shouldn’t—“

“About you.”  Obi-Wan cut him off.  

They were terrible, haunting things that made Obi-Wan afraid to go to sleep. He saw a reality where he faced Vader alone on Mustafar. Where his former pupil came at him with intent to kill, chased him through mines and across rivers of fire. Where Vader wasn’t quite skilled enough to get the better of him, and he wasn’t quite strong enough to kill Vader himself. Where he left the man he had loved, bleeding and burning, screaming. Obi-Wan couldn’t stop those screams ringing in his ears.

Anakin didn’t have to tell him that he had those same dreams, too.  Everything about them felt more real than the lives they were living. Somehow, they were both living a reality that shouldn’t exist, a reality where Anakin was given a second chance.

“Do you love me?” Anakin asked again, pulling Obi-Wan out of his own mind.

Laying there beside him, Obi-Wan could see the innocent, kind-hearted man that was his apprentice. He was damaged in more ways now than he was during the war, and Obi-Wan found himself wishing he’d done something then. He wanted to pull together the broken parts of Anakin Skywalker, to heal him, to remove him from the damaged galaxy and bring him peace. That’s what he saw in Anakin now, a longing for peace.

Obi-Wan scooted closer, quietly, and kissed him. So softly Anakin thought for a moment he might be dreaming it. His hand found Obi-Wan’s waist and tried to pull him closer.

 “Don’t push your luck.” Obi-Wan said, but there was the hint of a smile there. He took Anakin’s hand and moved it away. It was the one he’d lost to Dooku, Obi-Wan noted as he lay it on the bed, and his fingers lingered there, almost between Anakin’s for just a moment. Then he turned away and shut his eyes, and Anakin did too.

 

                Obi-Wan woke to an empty bed, which wasn’t nearly as concerning as the way the force shuddered around him. There was fury and danger in it, stronger than he’d felt since his brief time on Mustafar, and it only took him a moment to realize that’s what had woken him. He threw the covers away, and hurried towards the source of it.

He found Anakin—or whoever it was that came between Anakin and Vader, someone volatile and frightening—hunched over the kitchen table. Sitting there was recording of his wife from the library below them. She looked more like a memory with Skywalker’s eyes on her like that, burning and not really seeing.

Obi-Wan kept his distance, and the little blue hologram flickered out of life.

“How did Padme die?” He asked after a long pause, and he turned to look at Obi-Wan with those threatening eyes. Obi-Wan had forgotten how yellow they were. When he didn’t answer right away, Anakin went on, his words spoken through bared teeth. “I’m not a fool, I know that Sidious has been lying.”

“The droids couldn’t give me an answer.” Obi-Wan said, at a loss.

“What does that mean?” Skywalker demanded, standing up, and sending his chair skidding back across the floor and toppling over.

“I took her to the medical base on Polis Massa. She was alive, Anakin, and then she was gone. It was like,” Obi-Wan paused, nervous under his accusing gaze. “Like someone tore the life right out of her.”

Anakin huffed out a breath like he’d been hit in the chest. “And the child?”

“The children are safe.” He said, stubborn in giving a non-answer, and seeming more sure of himself than he did a moment ago.

“You _lied_ to me.” Anakin said, pointing at Obi-Wan. It felt like a threat for violence that didn’t follow.

“I didn’t lie to you.” He said, less carefully. “Do you honestly think they would have stayed safe if you’d known?”

Anakin burned with an intensity that Obi-Wan thought could’ve burned this home, and the rest of the planet with it, and then it was gone before he could even blink.

Anakin’s expression  crumpled, and he gripped the edge of the table so tightly his knuckles turned white. Obi-Wan watched as something in him broke, and had to fight the urge to reach out for him by the time he realized that Anakin was crying.

He had never seen Anakin cry like this before. It was raw, like Anakin was an open wound, and so painful even Obi-Wan could feel it from wear he stood.

“I’m sorry.” He choked out. He looked like he’d been torn open. Like all the grief he’d felt, that he’d pushed away because he thought he had no right to feel it, had fought its way out of him right then and there. “I have done such terrible things. I never wanted to become this. I don’t want to be this anymore, Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan couldn’t do anything but stare, and then Anakin looked up at him.

“Help me.” Anakin said, so defeated, pleading like Obi-Wan had never seen him plead. Obi-Wan felt something break in his chest, He felt the air leave his lungs, and he felt warm tears on his own face. “Master, please.”

There was no time between those words leaving his mouth, and Obi-Wan pulling him into his arms. Anakin pressed his face against his shoulder, and he seemed so small there as Obi-Wan held him, keening like he’d been physically wounded. Obi-Wan did all the things he wished he could have done for his padawan. He murmured comfort against Anakin’s hair, one hand stroked the space between his shoulders, the other held him like it would never let go.

They stayed that way long enough for Anakin to stop shaking, and for the tears to dry on his face, and finally Obi-Wan spoke.

“Luke. Your son.” He said, and he felt Anakin’s grip on him tighten. “He’s on Tatooine.”

 


	6. His son

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I don’t want to be your enemy, Anakin. We were once family, but you have done unforgivable things.”  
> Anakin looked down, all the fire in his expression vanished in an instant.   
> “I have,” he said.   
> “I would have trusted you with my life, once.”  
> “Didn’t I save it, now?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whelp,,, its been a while. henlo.

The rainforest planet was silenced, as though the very life of it could feel the anti-catharsis in the Force and was afraid. An unrest radiated like heat from the home perched among the trees, and the two men regarded each other.   
“Why are we still here?” Anakin stopped pacing on the far side of the room to face Obi-Wan proper, frustration palpable even before he could see the expression that had made a home on his face.   
“I still haven’t figured out what I’m going to do with you.” There was a familiar impassiveness that only served to frustrate Anakin further, as well as stung somewhere in his chest.  
“What you’re going to do with me? Have you forgotten yourself, Kenobi? You are still-” He caught himself, took a breath, and there was a length of silence before he spoke again, “every moment we waste here is another moment my son is in danger.”  
“Luke is perfectly safe.” He said, barely giving Anakin time to breathe before he did, and even then the uncertainty was obvious. There was a short pause, a loaded look before he went on. “I don’t want to be your enemy, Anakin. We were once family, but you have done unforgivable things.”  
Anakin looked down, all the fire in his expression vanished in an instant.   
“I have,” he said.   
“I would have trusted you with my life, once.”  
“Didn’t I save it, now?”   
Obi-Wan didn’t reply, but quirked a brow, and a quiet kind of anger flitted across his expression before habit made him pull it back. A long silence followed before he chose to speak.   
“I felt them die,” he stated plainly, remorse tinged just the very edges of his words and Anakin froze solid. “My family, friends. That night turned the Force into a graveyard. I couldn’t breathe.” A far away expression had settled onto Obi-Wan’s face, and he turned it to Anakin. “Had I been there, would you have killed me?”   
Anakin opened his mouth to answer immediately, and Obi-Wan held up a hand which meant tread carefully.  
“To save the most precious lives, I would have done anything, but there are some things even I couldn’t have prevented. You have been a blight on my consciousness since the Emperor took me.”  
“Oh, from the looks of things, there are many things you couldn’t have prevented.” His face was a cold, generals stare, just the hint of a smile. A prodding challenge.   
“Many things.” Anakin agreed. “Many things I can’t set right, but I can do something for my son.”   
Obi-Wan gave him a stern nod, lips sealed tight, and turned away. “I will prepare the ship.”  
Anakin stood, his arms folded neatly behind his back, and stared at nothing in particular. “Luke,” he murmured, and something far away shuddered through the force, and it stopped Obi-Wan in the doorway. He turned to see the pained, wistful longing on Anakin’s face.  
“The senator chose it.” Something grabbed at his throat and squeezed- the truths he was holding back from Anakin, or the agony he could feel by proxy, he couldn’t tell.   
Anakin nodded, almost imperceptible, dumb, and Obi-Wan turned quickly and disappeared. 

Alderaan was quiet, though for the senators Organa, silence was a far off memory. On any other night the estate would be filled with the sounds of babbling water, of birds in trees, the soft sounds of fingertips tapping at datapad keyboards. Leia was a child who was not easily sated, but easily soothed. In a year she’d learned to cry less and negotiate more- through looks and chattering and a just-so-timed wobbling lip.  
Tonight the cries of a small girl who could not be settled echoed so loudly it seemed even the local wildlife stayed silent for fear of upsetting her further. Though handfuls of physicians had come and gone, none of them could tell her parents that something was wrong- that she wasn’t just fussing as toddlers are want to do.   
But she wasn’t- Tucked up against Bail’s side whilst he worked was her favorite place to be and even now, even there the girl seemed fretful without end. The Organa’s had never seen their daughter afraid before, but if they had they might’ve known this to be it. Something foreign had grabbed ahold of Leia’s tiny heart and squeezed it.   
Breha scooped the girl up from Bail’s side and bounced her gently, a crease between her eyebrows as she stared pensive at her husband, and Leia’s wails were pressed into her mother’s shoulder.   
“The Jedi.” she said, quietly. “We need him.”   
Bail paused, turned back to his work with a small shake of his head. “No.”  
“What if this is something he understands? What if there's something terribly wrong? What about Luke? She has never cried like this before.” The fear in her voice is palpable, and Bail stands and wraps his arms around both of them.   
“This will pass, my dear.” He spoke in a voice reserved only for his family, and both of them seemed to calm just a little, but the night around them did not. 

Anakin’s ship shuddered in the drop out of hyperspace, and the look of distaste on his face only grew as she grew closer and the bright twin suns of Tatooine blinded him. They drifted over the remains of Obi-wan’s former home, across the vast dune sea, and towards the home where his son was.   
Only, the dune sea stretched on farther than he remembered, and there was a growing unrest in the pit of his stomach.   
“Something’s wrong.” he said, his mouth set in a tight line. Obi-Wan nodded in agreement as Anakin brought the ship to rest on the planet’s arid surface.  
“Well, isn’t that a change of pace?” He asked, a brow quirked in Anakin’s direction, and a pang of familiarity fluttered alongside the unease.   
Their footsteps made hardly a sound as they walked, and as they grew nearer to the Lars’ farm, a terrible smell filled the air.  
Approaching from behind, the place was serene. The evaporators stood like sentries around the perimetre, a small pillar of smoke rose from the home and finally, Anakin was close enough to hear the faint sound of chattering.   
He had sensed long ago what had gone wrong here, but the sound of electrically distorted voices confirmed it for him. The fire here was unnatural, it had burned nothing of the structure, or any of the home inside, only the brittle bones that sat huddled together by the door.   
Obi-Wan said nothing, but stared gravely. Luke was gone, Owen and Beru, gone. He would’ve liked to call them friend someday, and he understood why Owen kept him at bay, but his stomach flipped. More death.   
By the time he’d come back to his senses, Anakin had vanished, and he heard the telltale hum of a lightsaber igniting. He’d silently found the pair of stormtroopers, the source of the chattering earlier.   
“Where is the child?” Anakin’s voice clouded with darkness, fury, and the trooper’s recognised it because one of them dropped his blaster and began backing away.   
“You don’t need to ask that question.” Obi-Wan came behind him, cautiously. Not a second passed before a trooper answered.  
“He’s been taken to the emperor.” Even through the mask her voice was thick with desperation. Even in the short year since he’d become Vader, they’d learned to fear him.   
It was as quick as lightning, one swipe of his blade and both stormtroopers were struck down.


End file.
